Tales of KOTOR: Thoughts Under the Midnight Moon
by Dante-Raven
Summary: Rian Sage’s “Baggage” Challenge! Carth Onasi oneshot, firstperson story about coming to terms with Revan’s true identity and all that he’s had to endure for the last four years.


**Author's Notes: Rian Sage's "Baggage" Challenge. Carth Onasi one-shot, first-person story about coming to terms with Revan's true identity and all that he's had to endure for the last four years. Vote for your favourite story-challenge by PMing Rian Sage!**

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Star Wars

Tales of the Knights of the Old Republic

Thoughts Under the Midnight Moon

I woke up again, gasping and panting. I can feel the cool air from the ship's ventilation system cooling down the sweat that is stuck to my body. Once again, I wonder why it has to happen this way: same dream and another night. It's been the same dream I've had for almost four years and though it's become a part of me, I can't help but feel like it's pulling me down further and further into some kind of hole that I can't get out of.

I just sigh, tired of this continuing nightmare. I can barely remember a night when I slept with no nightmares and no dreams.

Sometimes, just sometimes when no one's looking around or asking me for my input, I just wish I could throw it all away and join her again.

It was wrong what happened—it was stupid and it was the one thing that fuels my desire for vengeance.

Betrayal.

I shake my head and open my eyes, finally ready to greet the same kind of hell that I've been living for those four years since she died. Rubbing my eyes, I let myself go and I find my feet set me upright and I stand, stretching my weary and sore body. I'm just going through the motions, like some kind of automaton. I could care less about what I have to do today.

The only thing on my mind is her.

It's always been about her.

Then there's my little boy. My sweet little angel who has nothing but contempt for his dear old man who left him in his time of need.

Oh Dustil, can't you see? I tried to look for you—I tried desperately for _years_ looking for you. You were the last link in my life and when I finally had given up and start trying to fight for the memories we had together, I find out that you live. It doesn't help that I find out you're working for the enemy because you hate me. It only drives that sword deeper into my heart and it makes me want to say that they won by putting the barrel into my mouth and pulling the trigger.

I go over to the refresher, throw cool water over my face and I try not to think how long it's been since I've bathed. Right now, what I really need is a hard drink—something to wake me up and something to make me feel real again.

The only thing that runs in my mind is that same dream, over and over again, until I can't make sense of the world around me.

I've had it every single night and yet it always seems to make me want to cry when I wake up. The sad thing is, I can't. I've seen too many good people die at the hands of the people who were once heroes.

Now I fight alongside a motley crew, comprised of Jedi, hunter killer droids, and even a Mandalorian for crying out loud.

The funny part is, of all the Jedi I get stuck with in the Galaxy, I get stuck with an old man who jabbers on about the "good old days" and two snot-nosed Padawans who fight over redeeming or killing Dark Jedi. Then there's a Cathar Jedi and honestly, I'd rather not like to talk about her. The less said, the better.

In the end, do I care?

Maybe.

But what does it matter?

None of them will survive when we face Malak again.

He's just too damned strong for them and I won't help them—I'll only get in the way. I've never fought a Jedi before and I've never fought a Sith and I've got no intention of doing so.

There's only one person I know who could have made it better and he's already dead. I made sure of it myself. I delivered the killing blow as I watched him breathe his last breath.

Saul, you bastard, your words keep running over and over in my mind.

I leave the refresher and find a seat in the main hold, remembering how everyone eyed me carefully that day. They know I don't trust him anymore, especially after what I learned.

I don't care what they think of him, but I know that I can't have the cycle repeat itself.

My sweet little Dustil has become a monster because of them and my dearest Morgana is gone, burned to a crisp from my best friend and mentor.

That's what my nightmare is.

I remember sitting on the ash filled ground, holding her charred body in my arms. I try not to gag at the putrid scent that fills my nostrils, but at the same time, I can't stand to bear the thought of losing her. I remember her words clearly, and I picture her face perfectly. Her long brown hair is nothing more than a charred scalp, and her once soft snowy skin is black and cracked with blood running its way through to my blackened TSF uniform.

I thought that by leaving the service and joining TSF, I'd be closer to home and family—I could make sure they'd stay safe.

But I recall holding her and listening to her mouth three words and all I can say is that I'm sorry.

My charred wife of the most wonderful years in my life dies in my arms, trying to say she loves me.

All around me is fire, sirens and people screaming.

Amid it all, I can hear them laughing at me, I can hear Malak and Saul.

Malak may have given the order and Saul may have followed through with it, but there really is the architect of this war to blame.

Revan.

That bastard—after I had served under his forces in the Mandalorian Wars, after I had given everything I had to ensure that my family would be safe, and he executes the order to attack the Republic.

I can hear him laughing, even now—he's laughing around me, dressed as a Jedi and a Sith and finally as Aster Cain, the smuggler who joined up with the _Endar Spire_ and eventually became a Jedi Knight.

Aster Cain, Revan, whatever the hell anyone wants to call him. He's the reason why I lost so much and after six months of fighting alongside him, I had grown to trust him—I'd even entertained the thought of calling him my brother in arms. Now I find out from Saul that he was merely a reprogrammed Revan, a weapon the Jedi had planned on using against the Sith, and once again, I was left out of the loop.

Now that I know who he is, I can't help but wonder why I haven't killed him yet.

It's like Saul has finally had his last laugh and when he told me, I ignored the look of horror on Bastila's face when I vapourized the smug look on his face.

Bastila.

That's another one of the puppets of the Jedi Order. I don't care how close she got to Revan and if they love each other, but I do respect her as a fellow fighter and though she held her own, I think we've come to a crossroad. We've lost Bastila and now we've all learned who Aster Cain really is, and though they've all come to terms with it, can I?

This was the man who created a war that destroyed my family, among countless millions. This was a man who orchestrated the complete destruction of the Mandalorian Clans and used politics to secure an alliance so great that he formed his own Empire.

Now he's nothing but a broken man, just like me.

I've heard him weep over Bastila and truth be told, I find his misery gratifying.

But there's another part of me, a scared part that whispers to me how much I've changed in four years.

Having your wife killed and son turn against you would do so much.

I listen very carefully, making sure to listen to him cry—listen to him wail in his misery that he is both the architect of this war and the person who brought about the sacrifice of his mistress by the hand of his best friend.

Funny, isn't it? That the one person everyone should fear the most is the one person that we've all come to trust. It's just like the damned Wars all over again.

But I'm going to change that.

I'm going to change it all. I'm going to prevent Revan from betraying us ever again. I listen very carefully, making sure to note any of the differences in their tones, but I know their routine already.

The old man is sleeping in his medical bay, Mission and Zaalbar are sleeping in the cargo hold, Canderous and the droids are in the garage. Juhani is my only worry—HK is just an afterthought in my mind. I've already shut down the unit while he went to recharge. If the bloody droid doesn't wake up after the switch and it happens to be from the excess energy dumped into his core, then good riddance.

I'm ending this once and for all—the Galaxy would be a far better place.

I get up from the chair, accidentally rising too quickly and shifting the chair before me with my leg. Stupid move, Onasi, stupid move.

I quickly remove my blaster from my holster and I look around, making sure there's no one around.

Yeah, a veteran of the Wars with a blaster in a ship traveling in hyperspace filled with a homicidal droid, an annoying Mandalorian reliving his glory days and bunch of Jedi. Real smart.

I look around, hoping that the dim lights aren't used against me.

I'm a soldier, but what I'm doing is something even I'm not accustomed to: cloak and dagger stuff. This isn't even me, but then again, if Morgana and Dustil were here, I wouldn't be on this godforsaken ship in the first place. I try to calm myself down—my breathing is heavy no matter what I try to do to slow it and my heart is beating a parsec a minute.

Calm down, Onasi.

I grip my holster, the only real thing I've carried with me for almost fourteen years. It's the only part of me that exists anymore. I've got nothing to lose, so why can't I calm down?

It's because I'm going to commit murder in cold blood. Not a first, but something even I don't take pride in.

I shake my head, and I walk towards the port dormitory, knowing that's where I'll find the scumbag. The sound of my boots hitting grating metal is nothing compared the loud hum of the ship that we've all become accustomed to. It's strangely comforting, the thought of the ship, the sound of the people I've come to rely on and trust sleeping. It's putting ideas in my head that I never really belonged here—this isn't even a Republic mission.

Sure I want to stop Malak just as badly as the next guy, but to use his old Master?

That's ludicrous.

But it's the possibility of picking between the lesser of two evils for the greater good. Never thought I'd hear myself say that, but it's true. In the end, this is a Jedi fight. We just happen to get stuck in the middle and claw out a meager life for ourselves.

I walk towards the room, not an ounce of light pouring into it until I open the door and see his sleeping form huddled like a baby on a cot.

So, that answers the first question: how does a mass murderer sleep at night?

I clench my jaw, knowing I'm not going to like this, but at the same time, I can feel myself growing angry at him. How can he sleep like that with all the deaths that rest on his shoulder?

He's a murderer for Force's sake!

Of all people, he took away my family!

I don't care if Malak gave the order or not!

I don't care if he's saved my life more times than I can count or even if he helped me track down my boy.

He deserves to die for the millions of lives he's displaced and killed.

He's a murderer, he deserves to be murdered.

I can see him through the slivers of light that hit his cot, highlighting his face.

He has the look of an angel, regardless of his age. He looks not much older than Dustil, but at the same time, Dustil's still a teenager—Revan's an adult, no more than twenty-eight, I'd say. For someone who's known war, he looks far better than anyone else I know.

What the hell am I thinking?

He's going to die tonight—I'm making sure of it.

It's the only way to be sure.

Jolee and Juhani will just have to carry on the mission.

They might fail, sure, but I always figured this was a one-way trip.

Hell, maybe even Canderous might win the war—he's a Mandalorian for crying out loud.

Maybe I can even send HK back to the Sith with a small surprise for Malak and his lackeys.

Snap out if it, Onasi. You've signed the warrant, now there's not much to do but to get it over with and then figure out how to move on from there.

But I'm going through the motions, aren't I? I shouldn't even care about anything else. Hell, I should just set a course for the nearest supernova.

No, I can't do that—too many innocent people on this bird, except for Canderous, but I doubt even a supernova could do the job when it comes to that old dog.

No more delaying Onasi—do it quickly and quietly, just like you said you would.

I try to ignore the sweat that is forming on my head by pointing the blaster to his head. His back is towards me, which makes things easier. The shift in my arm tells me how nervous I really am—my armpits are soaked and my hand rivals the jittering of a swoop bike.

I ignore the shaking, but now my heartbeat is matching the tempo of the hyperdrive.

No matter how nervous I feel, I can sense the switch to my military training. My thumb quickly releases the safety cap and I can feel the quick whine of blaster gas being fed from the cartridge to the barrel.

My finger is slowly stroking the hairline trigger, biding my time and waiting for me to finally go through with it.

But now I face another question: can I really go through with killing Revan?

Sure, he may have been the architect, but everyone knows Malak went against his orders and bombed Telos into submission. I even heard that's how the bastard earned his shiny little collar.

Revan had only been interested in taking worlds of military importance—anything that benefited his empire. Telos was just a world to him rich in resources, but nothing compared to Kuat, Mon Calamari or even the Echani worlds.

I clench my teeth and tighten my grip until I can feel all the blood leaving my hand. It feels like little prickles, almost as if my grip wants to go slack, but I know there's no one up and that it's only me and my mind play tricks on me.

Damnit Onasi, no one else is here, except a snoring Revan and myself: the guy with a blaster in his hand pointed at the former Dark Lord.

That's it.

Former Dark Lord.

I hate those words.

Aster Cain is not Revan, no matter how much I want him to be.

Aster Cain is the young man who has had a Galaxy thrust onto his shoulder because of the namesake Revan.

And as much as I am loath to admit it, this is the bastard who is sleeping, not Revan.

Revan never sleeps—he's always there, taunting you, waiting for you to slip up and seize it.

Aster Cain trusts me enough to sleep with his back to me, knowing I have a blaster pointed at him.

And now I can't squeeze the trigger.

He continues to snore; blissfully unaware of the fate I want to deal him and the one that haunts me.

And if I kill him, where does that leave Malak?

Jolee and Juhani won't be able to deal with him—they're strong, but nothing compared to Malak's power. I've seen some of the most powerful the Order has had to offer get turned to a hunk of meat for thinking they could stop Malak.

No, if there's someone who can defeat Malak without the aid of Bastila, it's going to be Aster. I just don't want to escape the fact that I have the opportunity of a lifetime to stop the potential betrayal before it happens.

Sooner or later, Revan will betray me—I know it. He'll betray us all and he'll take over the empire. It's only a matter of time.

But then again, maybe he won't. I've seen him give aid to those who needed it—without wanting of a reward.

How far will he go to become the new Dark Lord?

It's the same question as how far I will go to kill him. Maybe it's not right that I should kill him in cold blood, but he's done it before on countless occasions. Even if his name and memories are no longer Revan, he is still the person who created this war—isn't he?

I'm so confused, I just can't seem to figure out what all of this means.

How can I draw the line between who Aster really is and what crimes he committed as Revan?

Damnit!

I'm stuck between the lines with my blaster pointed at the base of Revan's skull, waiting for the right moment to fire. What do I have to lose?

His trust should mean nothing to me—whether or not he believes he is the former Dark Lord. He's done nothing as Aster to show the malevolence that was inherent in Revan and yet, I find myself wondering what he means to me.

He's saved my life more times than I can count. He picked up a street urchin and her pet Wookiee, he secured an alliance with a Mandalorian who seems to be honoured fighting alongside the former Dark Lord and Jolee seems to help him read between the lines. Is it really that bad that he's on our side than the Sith?

With the strength and power he has, he could decimate the entire Sith empire that he built. He did as much with the Jedi Order and they're ancient, wise and powerful.

I don't like where this line of thought is taking me, but if he's our best shot at stopping Malak, then maybe he deserves a chance to redeem himself.

What's more, he actually saved my son from becoming one of them.

No one's ever gone out of their way to help me or my family—not even Saul.

When this is all over, maybe I can pick up the pieces with my son and now that I think about it, Revan didn't do it—it was Aster that helped reunite me with my boy.

I'm broken out of my thoughts when I see him sniffle and shift slightly, causing my hand to shake harder and making it that much tougher to decide whether or not he should live.

I sigh, knowing that if I kill him, it will be over—not just for me, but for everyone else on board. I want to give Dustil a future—hell; I want to give Mission a future as well. They're young and they don't deserve this.

Maybe I should kill Aster or maybe I shouldn't. Whatever the outcome, I just want my boy to be free of all this fighting and killing. He deserves better and maybe Aster might help make that come true.

I switch off the gas and I holster my blaster, though I keep my eyes on his form. I notice he's shivering slightly and I pick up the grey blanket that he tossed over sometime while he slept. Without realizing it, I gently throw it over his body and caress his short, dark hair.

He looks so much like Dustil when he was younger.

He stirs for a moment, making me realize what I am doing, and I berate myself for getting caught in a moment. I seem to be moving from one extreme to another—but what I do know is that I've made my decision.

I'm going to keep an eye on him. If Aster can help me save the Republic and end Malak's reign without falling to their vaunted Dark Side, then maybe I can trust him again. If I see an ounce of Revan bubble to the surface, however, I'm going to make sure he never sees the Star Forge ever again.

I have to make sure his memories stay buried forever.

It's for Dustil's sake that I'm doing this.

I only hope I'm not making a grievous mistake.

The soldier in me is screaming to kill him now, but the other part—the father and the tired old man are whispering to give him a chance. I'll side with them all. I'll give him a chance and stay with him always. When he slips up—and I know he will—he'll die by my hands.

Maybe it's my own dumb fault for handing the Galaxy to him on a silver platter, but I've made my mistakes with Saul. I won't make the same mistake twice—I'm staying close to Revan.

Yeah, I'm sure I'll stay close.

Turning to leave, I hear him rustle again and I know that he's probably trying to get more comfortable. As silently as I can, I creep out of the room and towards the door, ready to close it, until I hear him groan.

My heartbeat skyrockets again and I know I'm caught. I'm torn between pulling out my blaster or waiting to see what will happen. I don't feel any pressure in my body whatsoever, so there's a sign he may not even be using the Force so readily.

The light is off and so only the one outside that shines on my form will probably hide my face, but show my form. That might be to my advantage.

"Dad?" He groans.

I'm not sure who he's talking to: his father as Revan or the memories the Order programmed in him, so I call out, "yeah, son?" I bite my lower lip, hoping he doesn't recognize my voice and hear my nervousness. I don't even know who his father was—let alone the father of any Jedi. Let's hope it passes—and I'm really hoping it's the memories the Order placed in his head.

"Are we going to buy Mum's birthday present tomorrow?"

Hearing those words brings up some memories of me and Dustil when he was just 6. Whatever memories those Master had, sure worked. I don't know who's convinced: myself or Revan.

I almost choke at the words, because for an instant, I can see my little boy, half asleep, waiting for his old man to come home so he can plan a gift for his mother. The funny thing is that come tomorrow—or today, depending on someone's point of view—it will be Morgana's birthday. The words sound so familiar and yet they sound so old, reminding me that for once, in a long time, I'm a tired old man. "We will get her something from the open market and you can pick out the cake."

And just like my little boy, I hear him groan a reply and fall back to sleep.

For a moment I stand there, caught between the moments of my past and pondering Morgana's birthday. Its been four years since I last thought of her birthday. The only thing that preoccupied my mind was killing Sith and looking for Dustil.

Now I actually have time to think about it.

Looking back at Revan, it takes me a moment to realize Revan had spoken to me like that.

They were similar moments to the events in my own life.

Even if Aster Cain was supposedly from Deralia, why does he have memories of a life that bears a startling similarity to my own?

In fact, where the hell did the Jedi Masters get their memories from?

I leave the room and close the door, storming back to the cockpit. I may have to watch Revan closer and I may have spared his life this night, but some things just don't add up.

I don't know where those Masters stole those memories from, but now there are more questions than answers, and I _hate_ being left out of the loop. I seal the doors for the cockpit and begin to rummage in my coat pocket for a list of names.

Pulling it out, I open a channel on a tight band frequency with my authorization codes that only the Republic will know. I need some answers, and while Revan may not actually know whose memories those are, I have a feeling I might know.

For more reasons than I had originally thought, I think I'm going to have to keep an eye on Revan all the more. I don't like being left out of the loop and I'm certainly not going to allow myself get betrayed again.

Damn you Saul.

Damn you to hell.


End file.
